Possession
by Twilight Fang
Summary: Narnia - Peter/Caspian SLASH. Taking place at the end of Prince Caspian, Peter first shows signs of hostility towards Caspian over what he perceives to be a romantic interest in Susan. This quickly turns into a dark possessive fascination with Caspian.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **Please do not read this fanfic if slash or yaoi offends you. In other words, MxM literature with Peter x Caspian as the pairing. This story contains spoilers from the 2nd Narnia movie so you might want to watch Prince Caspian before going any further.

This is my first Narnia slash fanfic so feedback is very welcome! Considering how I haven't written anything in ages, I probably am in desperate need of some C & C.

**Part 1**

It was the dead of night, the sky a jet-black inky pool of darkness jaded only by the occasional light of an overhead star. On the one hand the night sky sought to relax and ease the minds and spirits of the Narnians who slept under it. However, on the other, it served as a heavy reminder of the recent demise of the men and women that had lost their lives in the battle between the Telemarines and the Narnians. How bleak was the future of the families and loved ones they had left behind.

"…and to think that we were drawn back to Narnia by a simple horn," Edmund was saying as he turned the intricately crafted instrument over in his fingers.

"This is no mere horn," Caspian corrected Edmund, his Spanish accent thicker than usual, a clear indication that he was getting emotionally excited over the topic. "Susan's horn is a magical device, which wields a power far beyond our greatest imagination. Even Aslan himself was hesitant in explaining the full potential of --."

Caspian was rudely interrupted by Peter's snickering. He harshly set his gaze on the blonde haired young man – the High King of Old – sitting across from him at the campfire and was startled by the ferocity with which the look was returned.

"Something amuses you, King Peter?" Although Caspian kept his tone light and questioning, his dark brown eyes were daring his counterpart to stir up any further trouble. Since the Pevensies had shown up in Narnia, answering the call of Susan's enchanted horn, Peter had gone out of his way to criticize and challenge just about everything Caspian said or did. Perhaps crossing swords upon meeting wasn't the best first impression to make but they'd fought on the same side eventually. Whatever Peter's earlier reservations may have been, Caspian had thought that he'd finally proven himself worthy of the support and respect from the kings and queens of old, and from Peter himself.

To Peter's left side, Susan straightened up from her lounging position to give her older brother a dirty look. "Oh please, don't start up again." If looks could kill, Susan's was the best for the job. Where feelings were concerned, Susan's could certainly become a tangible thing.

"I wouldn't dream of derailing _Prince_ Caspian's overzealous interest in your beloved horn, Susan," Peter replied with a discontent smirk. He'd had just about enough of listening to everyone go on and on about how Susan's horn had saved the day for Caspian and for Narnia. Truth be told, hearing the sweet infliction the Telemarine youth spared for Susan's name left a bad taste in Peter's mouth.

"Isn't it _King_ Caspian now, Susan?" Lucy innocently poked her sister in the arm for a confirmation of facts.

"Now until his coronation ceremony – tomorrow." Peter corrected just as innocently.

It was now completely obvious to Caspian that Peter was mocking him once again. He wished to challenge Peter, to demand an explanation as to why he was the constant target of the other youth's anger and resentment. Caspian had overheard a few distasteful references to the life that Peter led back in his own world. He'd heard Susan constantly berating the oldest Pevensie to stay in line and quit acting so brutish and disagreeable. Even Edmund had urged Peter to tone down his temper when his older brother seemed to fly off the deep end with fists and insults flying. Lucy seemed to be the wisest of the three. Aside from the rolling of her eyes, she kept a safe distance from Peter when he was on a rampage. Seeing the individual ways that the Pevensies reacted to Peter's hostile outbursts might have provided some insight into a way that Caspian himself could skirt around the danger that was Peter. Might have… if Caspian had felt that confident.

"Are you ready for your big day?" Peter continued, not allowing Caspian a moment in which he might have been able to form a suitable response. "I'm sure that Susan's horn will fit quite snugly in your new royal belt." Every word dripped with acidic sarcasm.

That did it.

Caspian leaned forward, fists bared at his sides as he met the hostility in Peter's smoldering blue eyes. "Exactly what are you implying?!"

"Don't you dare drag me into your petty, childish feuds," Susan shot out nastily at Peter. "I'll stand for no more of your innuendo." Having said her peace, she angrily brushed off her dress and leaned over to snatch her horn back from Edmund. With her other hand, she latched onto Lucy's wrist and urged the younger girl to her feet. "There'll be no more talk about either me or my horn. Thank you ever so much." Giving Peter one last scowl, she led Lucy away from the campfire and in the direction of the castle. "Come along, Lucy."

From far in the distance, Lucy's hasty, "Susan, what does 'innuendo' mean?" could be heard.

Once Susan was out of range, Peter eyed Caspian, gauging the dark haired youth's reaction to his attractive – if not overbearing – sister's exit.

Edmund sat on the sidelines looking from his brother to Caspian. "You guys aren't serious, are you? I thought that you'd settled your differences."

"I had assumed so as well," Caspian agreed.

"Ed, why don't you take a walk." Coming from Peter, that was far from being a friendly suggestion. "There's something that I need to settle with Caspian here."

"Peter," Edmund pleaded.

"_Ed_." This time, Peter's tone was not so nice.

Giving Caspian a look that may have been his last, Edmund quietly sulked off after Susan and Lucy.

"Now, dear _Prince_ Caspian, why don't we have ourselves a little chat?"

Caspian could only watch mutely as Peter rounded on him from across the fire, somehow sensing that this was not going to go over well at all.

_... to be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Please do not read this fanfic if slash or yaoi offends you

**Author's note: **In case you missed the first warning, escape now to avoid Peter x Caspian slash! And please let me know what you think of this chapter! I really do appreciate feedback.

**Part 2**

From somewhere above their heads, an owl hooted, keen on watching whatever scene might unfold before it. Peter had stopped unnervingly close to Caspian, his face a mask of polite fury. He listened to the hooting of the owl and likened its predatory nature to that of his own. The easily ruffled Caspian was beginning to look very uncomfortable with Peter hovering above him but stubbornly refused to budge an inch, not willing to lose any ground to his adversary.

"What are your intentions towards Susan?" Peter demanded to know. The campfire light flickered strange patterns over his face and clothing, giving him a mysteriously eerie appearance in the darkness. It also served to make his expression all the more difficult to read.

"Nothing if not noble," Caspian replied hastily. "Have I given you reason to suspect otherwise?"

"You mean aside from the many times that you've glorified and compared her to a goddess of some sort?"

"Surely you must be joking?" It was probably at this point that Caspian realized that Peter did not find the accusation to be amusing. But where on earth had King Peter the Magnificent – in all his wisdom and glory – pulled such a ludicrous interpretation of events from his unimaginative head? Despite all the praising that Caspian had given Susan's name, the bulk of those comments had been directed towards her horn, not Susan herself.

Peter suddenly leaned down and gripped Caspian's shoulder in a very unfriendly manner, causing those big brown eyes to widen further at him. "Your interest in my sister is very, very unwelcome. Neither she nor I will ever be returning to Narnia, which means that there is no possibility of a future between you."

"I know that!" Caspian reached up to grab onto Peter's wrist, trying to pry those strong calloused fingers off of his shoulder but they clung on like the claws of a bird of prey. He could feel untrimmed nails biting through his tunic to mar the flesh beneath and his face grew flushed with anger and a slight twinge of fear. Above him, the firelight continued to dance through Peter's icy cold stare that trapped him in a void of… what? Hatred? No. Caspian blinked in confusion, trying to draw to mind what emotion he had witnessed reflected in Peter's raging blue eyes.

"You will stay away from her, do you understand?" Even as the words left his mouth, Peter was already regretting them and the hint of madness that they contained. Why did he feel so strongly about defending his sister's virtue? Susan was more than capable of keeping all the available men at bay with her cold indifference and condescending appraisals of any who were foolish enough to attempt to woo her. Not only that, usually Peter couldn't give a damn about Susan's social life in general. So why was he getting so hot and bothered over Caspian's attraction to her? He _was_ attracted to her, wasn't he?

Upon hearing that order, Caspian stiffened and glowered at Peter. "Susan is my friend and I enjoy her company. I will not be bullied into keeping my distance from her so as to satiate your demented need to be in total control of the lives of the people around you."

"You _will_ heed my warning," Peter hissed, sliding his hand down Caspian's arm until his fingers clamped down on a slender wrist. Caspian's look of defiance and indignation completely set off every trigger in Peter's body that signaled for a serious nuclear meltdown.

"And you would do best by releasing me this instant. I will tolerate your threats no longer." Caspian kicked out at Peter's shins, hoping to knock him off balance and shake those biting fingers off of his wrist. Unfortunately, Peter was stronger and had more experience in the way of battles and swordplay. Kicking him only made him angrier.

Faster than Caspian had time to think, Peter had dropped to the ground, straddling the squirming king-to-be as he leaned down onto him. His free hand formed a fist, which he raised above Caspian's face, preparing to clobber him good. To just smash that pretty face up and beat those flailing arms down. How easily he had disarmed Caspian just days before, overwhelming the young prince's unsatisfying technique with the sword. And, he'd also managed to push all the wrong buttons with Caspian, while preparing for the battle that had shook them both to their very core. All he needed to insult Caspian and force him into the offensive was to belittle the prince's strategic planning and cast blame where none was really deserved. However, it proved to be much more devastating to Caspian's heart and mind when dredging up the ugly family history that had left the youth fatherless and at Miraz's mercy. Peter had cut Caspian down in every way possible from the moment that they had met. Adding a few scrapes and bruises to the list of injuries he'd burdened Caspian with wouldn't go very far in lengthening the frigid rift between them. Or would it? And why should Peter even care?

Gazing down into Caspian's startled features seemed to erase all of the confusing anger that Peter had boiling inside of him. He couldn't bring himself to damage the prince's beautiful features anymore than he would allow himself to shoot out further insults directed at the youth's family heritage. Beautiful? Where the hell had _that_ come from?

"Let me up!" The demand all but changed into a flitting whisper in the airy night as their eyes met and Caspian's breath drew short.

Peter was brought back to his senses by the pounding of his own heart, echoing painfully in his head as he began to recognize the true nature of his own emotions. He studied the way Caspian's chest rose and fell as the Telemarine prince, prone and helpless beneath Peter, peered hesitantly up at him. _Damn it!_ Peter cursed himself in blank wonder, surprised at the way his heart had blinded him. The strong urge to press down against Caspian - to quell his fear and anxiety with a searching kiss – nearly undid Peter there and then. Their close proximity stirred a heat and desire in him that he hadn't noticed up until now.

So that was it!

With a nervous laugh, Peter carefully released Caspian and backed off to a safe distance. Imagine that! The Great High King being led on by his own sexual frustration. Peter let his shoulders droop ever so slightly in dismay and avoided making eye contact with Caspian as he stooped down to gather up his belongings.

"Would you care to share what you think is so humorous?" Caspian remained where he was, practically seething at what he assumed to be another form of mockery on Peter's behalf.

"Like I said, we won't be around much longer so it really doesn't matter." Although Peter was purposely reminding Caspian that all four Pevensie siblings would soon be off on their merry way out of Narnia – with Susan and himself never to return - he bit back a comment which would have singled out his own feelings on the subject. "Let's just concentrate on keeping the peace until then."

'_Keep the peace indeed!' _Caspian frowned as he watched Peter ambling off into the night, in the opposite direction of the castle. He could hardly question the king's hypocrisy because he was too distracted by the deafening thumping of his own heart inside his chest.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **The story will soon lead up to the slash parts so no need to worry about that. :D Thanks to everyone who was kind enough to leave a review! If you have a moment, please let me know what you think of this chapter.

**Part 3**

The second that Peter had securely locked himself in his room, he flung himself down headfirst onto the bed – boots, armor and sword attached – and growled into the pillow. How could he have been so foolish? Why hadn't he seen this coming earlier? It really should have been obvious considering the unbearable amount of tension that had been buzzing between Caspian and himself.

So he'd fallen for the prince – the future king of Narnia – so what! It couldn't be more than a whimsical crush.

Peter willed himself to relax, trying to coax sleep into his battle-weary limbs. He succeeded in temporarily easing the harsh lines of worry and grief around his eyes and letting go of the firm scowl that he'd molded his features into. If he gave into the exhaustion burrowing into his mind, he'd feel better in the morning. All he needed was some… sleep… and…

"Dammit!" The muffled curse escaped past his lips before he could stop it. Now that he was fully aware of his attraction to the Telemarine prince, it was nearly impossible for him to clear his mind of this fact. Unbidden, the oh-so-tempting image of Caspian floated into his halfway dream state, forcing him to accept the intensity of his need for the prince. He couldn't get Caspian out of his blasted hormonally challenged head… although the clothing part really hadn't been a problem. How could he possibly sleep while such depraved thoughts occupied his consciousness?

Slamming his fist into the pillow, Peter rolled over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He'd be gone by tomorrow afternoon, returned to the world that he had so eagerly abandoned. What was there to go back to? All the adventure lay in Narnia, not back in England where the days went by in a monotonous, mundane blur. Peter had never felt more alive than when fighting to defend the Narnians from the Telemarines. The thrill of the battle, the adrenaline that ran through his veins as he fought for his very life. For Caspian. Leaving all this meant abandoning a very large piece of what he was, what he felt, and what he had become. Not to mention never having the chance to express what he felt for Caspian.

_Damn it to hell!_

From outside, a loud boom of thunder sounded from somewhere nearby. Raising his head from the pillow, Peter stared long and hard at the bedroom window that was now being furiously pelted by a rainstorm. It must've started raining a while ago but he'd been so lost in his inner chaos that he hadn't noticed. What was odd was that he hadn't heard Caspian return from the outskirts of the forest yet. He would've been able to hear the prince's boots on the flooring beyond his bedroom door had Caspian passed by it. And passing by his door was necessary considering how the prince's chambers were along the same hallway as his own.

Caspian must be inside the castle somewhere. He couldn't still be outside, could he?

* * *

After Peter had vanished from sight, Caspian had taken the task of cleaning up the campfire to heart. Before putting out the fire itself, he made sure to pick up every little forgotten article that had been left behind by the others first. Susan was by far the neatest of the Pevensies and had left very little trace of herself in the spot where she had been sitting. Edmund, on the other hand, was a disorganized mobile mess. Grimacing as he caught sight of one of Edmund's dirty socks, Caspian gingerly plucked it up with his gloved hand and dropped it into the concave side of Peter's forgotten shield. So far the shield was doing a pretty good job of housing a large number of peculiar looking odds and ends.

While searching around for anymore items to add to his little makeshift lost-and-found, Caspian found himself thinking of Peter. The more he interacted with the blond youth, the more emotionally disturbed he felt. He had no words to describe what he felt when in Peter's presence. Although he suspected that Peter enjoyed taunting him and would stop at nothing to see him squirm in defense, Caspian unwittingly encouraged the behavior with his own response to it. Thinking back to the dreadful way that Peter had straddled his waist, that severe expression giving way to one that had momentarily flung the High King for a loop, had Caspian's cheeks aflame in seconds. But what did it mean?

A mere fragment of recollection from that disquieting moment nearly drew Caspian's heartbeat into a maddening pace. Perhaps he was putting too much weight on the significance of Peter's impulsive actions. The king from the outside world probably gave very little thought to what he said and did before it was said or done. And if Peter wasn't dwelling on the incident then neither should he.

Caspian retrieved the bucket of water that Lucy had carried over from the river and poured it over the cackling embers of the fire, immediately silencing it. As he paused to inspect the tidy state that he had left the clearing in, a single drop of rain caught the tip of his nose. A few more drops followed, disappearing into his longish wavy hair to trickle down the back of his neck.

That was odd… The sky had been clear a moment ago, but when Caspian looked up again he could make out a clustering of angry rain clouds hanging above his head. At the rate that they were coalescing, and the increasing speed with which the raindrops were falling, he'd be soaked within minutes.

Moving quickly, Caspian darted over to the large oak tree where he had rested his sword earlier. He located it with relative ease and was just beginning to reach for it when a sharp tug on his ankle brought him crashing down onto his knees and arms. Thinking that Peter had come back for another round of insults, he seized the handle of his sword, twisted around, and swung it upwards. But his sword cut through empty air for there was no one to be found. Had he simply tripped?

Placing the sword down at his side, Caspian pushed himself up into a sitting position, hissing in pain when he realized that the thing that had ensnared his ankle had not let go. The pressure was so keen that his toes had started to go numb from the loss of circulation. Using the very dim moonlight to aid his eyesight, Caspian latched onto the thing coiled around his ankle and cringed in disgust when his fingers encountered a greasy tar-like substance. Getting past his initial reaction, he was able to push past the tar for his fingers to trace a thin vine that had doubled up around his boot. No, not a vine. A root! He could see it clearly now, protruding from the dampening earth beneath the gigantic oak.

Not really interested in the reason for why the root was so far detached from the earth, Caspian dug the fingers of his left hand into it and pulled. It had to have wrapped around his ankle two or three times for it was difficult for him to get a good grip on it. After another good tug and no success, he dragged his sword over with his right hand, preparing to slash at it. That was when another root broke free from the earth to lash around his wrist, yanking his arm backwards at a painful angle.

"Ahh!!" Caspian cried out in pain, his sword having been thrown somewhere behind him in the confusion. At both his wrist and ankle, the roots pulled taut, stretching him out on his back. As the rain showered down on him, impairing his vision as the cold drops of water poured into his face and eyes, the earth beneath him began to soften. From nearby came the threatening clap of thunder and the sizzle of lightning streaking across the sky. He would soon be in mortal danger when the lightning grew too close to the tree, which it might consider an appealing target.

On the verge of attacking the root that was nearly crushing his wrist with his free hand, Caspian was unprepared for another one which clamped over his waist, and yet another that stopped the frantic kicking of his other leg. There was very little Caspian could do to maintain control now. Panicking like a wild animal, his fingertips tore at slick bark, desperate to at least have his arms free. His breathing was harsh and forced, the rainwater masking the near hysterical sounds that he was making. He struggled vainly, blocking out the chilly sensation of his clothing – frigid and soaking wet – molding to his shivering flesh. But he wasn't able to remove from his mind the dreadful knowledge of how he was being pulled deeper into the mud at the base of the tree as the rainwater pooled around him. He would surely drown if the water level rose any higher!

Caspian whipped his head to the side to avoid the steady downfall of rain and was anxiously searching for his sword when an unseen root tore out of the puddle to coil around his neck, immediately beginning to choke him.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **I'm really sorry that this update took so long. I've had a lot going on and haven't had the chance to write or come online much. I promise that the next part will not take this long to be posted. Thank you so much for the reviews and emails! Coming back and reading them really motivated me to continue this fanfic.

**Part 4**

Not wanting to start a fuss over nothing, Peter had gone to Caspian's chambers to confirm that it was missing a prince before he actually began to worry. If there was one thing that Peter hated to do, it was worry. He was constantly fretting over the safety of his siblings and was quick to blame himself for any harm that befell them, whether it be physical or emotional. It wasn't so unusual for him to lock himself away somewhere to wallow in the tiresome burden of his own responsible nature. When he carefully stole into Caspian's bedroom to find it empty, he found himself once again confronted with an emotion that pinned him as being responsible for the prince's absence. That sense of responsibility bordered on fear when he couldn't think of any reasonable explanation as for why Caspian hadn't returned to the castle yet.

Had he upset Caspian with his testosterone-motivated posturing? Maybe the prince had ventured off further into the forest in order to release the frustrated anger that he hadn't cast upon Peter himself. No, that didn't seem very likely. Caspian wasn't the sort to do that kind of thing. Then what?

Coming up with nothing substantial, Peter was left with no choice but to double check the campfire site for Caspian. If the prince had already reentered the castle and was only hiding, then there would be no harm done… except for the bodily injuries which Peter mentally guaranteed himself he would inflict on the pretty upstart. But if something was wrong… If something had happened to Caspian… Peter would not be able to sleep until he found the prince, one way or another.

Pulling on a blue hooded cape that he 'borrowed' from Caspian's own wardrobe, Peter set out in the rain to find his new 'friend'. He retraced his steps once outside the castle walls, brushing the back of his hand over his face now and then to clear it of the heavy rainwater. It was literally pouring buckets outside. The only thing that urged him onwards was his concern for Caspian's safety. He wouldn't have been caught dead outside in such a storm otherwise.

The thick hood was more or less useless thanks to the gale winds that slapped his face and whipped the hood and cape to and fro in a crazy dance around his body. As he approached the campfire site, his eyes fell on the scattered articles that had been strewn all over the mucky ground. He was in the process of retrieving his shield when a horrific sight caught his attention. There, over by the tree, lay Caspian, his hair plastered against his face, his lips parted in a soundless scream. He was entangled in what appeared to be thick ropes that were dragging him down into a watery pool of mud. One of his hands was weakly tearing at his throat, but other than that he lay there, allowing the ropelike creatures to do whatever they wished with his body.

"CASPIAN!" Peter dashed over to the prince, slipping and crashing to his knees at the edge of the sinking pool. Caspian didn't react at all, indicating that he either hadn't heard Peter call him or was too distressed to do anything other than gasp for air from his constricted throat. "Hold on! I'll have you free in a moment." Upon closer observation, Peter was able to identify the strange black roots that had trapped Caspian. They were keeping the prince completely immobile. He had probably lost the strength to fight them any longer judging by the cruel way that they were digging into his limbs and body.

First things first. He needed to destroy the one that was clinging to Caspian's neck before it strangled him to death. The only problem was that he hadn't anticipated any sort of trouble on his midnight, stormy adventure - aside from another argument with Caspian himself – so he hadn't come prepared. His sword was still safely locked away in the castle, in a heavy trunk situated at the foot of his loaned bed. _Damn it and double damn it!_ A testing tug on the constricting root did nothing more than choke Caspian further so Peter quickly released it. Glancing around frantically for something heavy or sharp, his gaze fell upon Caspian's lost sword a few meters away. Peter dashed over to the sword, lifted it effortlessly and was back kneeling at Caspian's side within seconds.

"Hold on!" Peter repeated as he held the sword aloft and then swung it down harshly on the root. The detached tendril flailed about for a few seconds before falling slack and then releasing Caspian. The young prince continued to gasp, alarming Peter severely and causing him to wonder if perhaps Caspian's windpipe had been crushed in the attack. And still, the remaining roots would not relent in their mindless task of attempting to drown Caspian. Now, fully enraged and willing to inflict some major damage of his own, Peter slashed at those offending roots, tearing into them, chopping some cleanly in two. Finally, he had Caspian free and bent down to drag the Telemarine clear of the mucky pool that had almost become his burial site. "Caspian! You're free!" Peter cupped one hand behind Caspian's head to support the soaking wet, muddy prince as he coughed roughly, his throat no doubt raw and quite inflamed. When Caspian still did not draw in a normal breath, Peter peered down into the prince's handsome face, trying to convey his own sense of calmness and stability. Unfortunately, Caspian was unable to benefit from Peter's make-belief strength because the younger man was apparently unconscious. The urgency of his gasping was a purely physical response to the violent way his body had been treated.

Overhead, a streak of lightning zigzagged down across the sky, coming within inches of striking the highest branch of the monstrous tree that had attacked Caspian.

"Let's get you back to the castle… put some warmth back in your skin," Peter said in a loud, confident voice. He felt none of that confidence as he hoisted Caspian into his arms, forcing himself to bear the chill that the prince's icy body shared with his arms and chest. He hated that Caspian lacked the strength to will himself back to consciousness. He cursed as he stumbled back to the castle, losing his footing several times in the muddy ground, once crashing down onto his right knee to avoid dropping Caspian. However, at the bottom of all his anger and cursing lay a heavy guilt that blamed him for having left Caspian alone and at the mercy of the vile entity that had inflicted injury and pain on a man whom Peter was forced to admit that he cared deeply about.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: **Once again, I'm really sorry for the sluggish update. Work has been really busy, and this part turned out to be twice as long as the others so it took a while to finish. The next part is going to somewhat more _intense_, to put it mildly. Thanks to everyone who took the time to post a review! I really, really appreciate every review because they serve as my motivation for writing.

**Part 5**

The rain continued to bombard the Telemarine castle from the outside as Peter's footsteps thundered up the steps on the inside. His boots screeched on the staircase as he propelled himself upwards, waking half the castle with his maddening progress. Before he reached the top of the staircase, he was surrounded on nearly all sides by servants rushing out of their rooms to see what manner of devil was running amok in the castle on such a hellish night. In amongst them were Edmund, Susan, and Lucy.

One sharp glance at the ruined state of Caspian's appearance, deathly pale and covered in cuts and welts, and Susan hastily dragged Lucy back into their shared bedroom. The young girl had seen more pain and suffering than was suitable for her tender age.

Peter brushed past Edmund, heading towards Caspian's chambers as he barked out orders to the servants. "I need hot water, bandages, a salve… something… _anything_ to stop the bleeding." He carried Caspian through the threshold, past the bed and into the bathing area.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Edmund dogged behind at Peter's heels, frantically trying to assist his older brother.

"Not now, Ed," Peter ground out through his chattering teeth. He lowered Caspian to the floor as servants rushed past him with buckets of hot water, intent on filling the porcelain bath by the far wall. Retrieving Caspian's sword from his belt, Peter caught the young prince's collar with his other hand, snagged the tip of the sword at the soggy fastenings that bound the silk shirt together and sliced it from the chilled body. Knowing that it was useless to bother with buttons, fastenings, and ties – or whatever else Caspian had managed to bundle himself up in – Peter took the liberty of making short work of the sopping mess of tangled fabrics that clung to the prince's slender limbs.

Ignoring Susan, who had appeared at his side, Peter prepared to lift Caspian into the steaming hot bath water. It was a very fortunate thing that Susan had appeared when she did for she gave her older brother the look of death, causing him to pause and question her.

"What?!" Peter practically screeched at his sibling, not at all interested in listening to his sister's condescending nagging when Caspian's life hung in the balance.

"You really are an idiot, do you know that?" Being mindful to avoid settling her gaze on certain parts of Caspian that she found… 'educational', Susan concentrated her attention on the bloody purple lines that hideously marred the flesh of Caspian's throat. "You can't just dunk him into a scalding hot cauldron without treating these wounds first." Having said that, she waved one of the servants over to help her disinfect and treat that particular injury.

"And why not? He's as cold as ice," Peter snarled. "He can't wait a minute longer."

"Considering how badly he's already injured, I suppose that he wouldn't mind suffering the pain of being dropped into a hot bath that's going to burn every one of these open cuts," she retorted sarcastically.

Peter bit back whatever he was about to say, feeling like an idiot for not having thought about the effect the hot water might have on Caspian's injuries. As much as he hated to admit it, Susan was right. "You needn't be so nasty about it," he muttered under his breath as he picked up the pungent alcoholic concoction that the Telemarines used as a disinfectant and set to work rubbing it into Caspian's damaged wrists.

Meanwhile, Edmund, judging that Peter and Susan were fairly preoccupied with what they were doing, set to work drying Caspian with some of the best bath towels that he plucked off of a silver adorned banister attached to the wall behind the bath.

Once Caspian was bandaged up, Peter lifted the unresponsive young man into the bathtub, doing his best to keep most of the injuries clear of the water. Although it didn't seem very practical, he'd also decided on keeping Caspian's undergarments securely in place with Susan clucking her disapproval over his shoulder.

When Caspian moaned low in his throat and began to stir, Peter shot his sister a sour look that would've melted flesh if given half the chance. "_Really_, Susan, don't you think that now would be the appropriate time to make an exit?"

"Oh, come off it! As if I haven't seen my fair share of naked boys," Susan retorted peevishly.

Edmund watched his siblings on the precipice of another nasty falling-out but chose not to get involved. He knew from experience that getting in the middle would just open himself up to attack, and picking sides would get him killed. So… better to just sneak out while he had the chance.

"I beg your pardon?!" Peter's stomach turned at the imagery of his sister engaging in sexual acts with some of their mutual friends at school. He knew the 'boys' that Susan seemed to be implicating and nothing riled him up more than the thought of his sister frivolously romping about with those types of animals.

Susan hardly noticed Edmund edging past her and rushing out the door as she challenged Peter's unmistakable disgust. "That's none of your business. My point is that I have absolutely no problem with tending to Caspian's wounds… even in his current state of undress. You don't know the first thing about first aid so that just leaves me."

"_You_ might not have a problem with gawking at Caspian in his skivvies," Peter spat out in anger, "but _he ­_– being a prince – will probably have a problem with _you_." To drill home what he meant, Peter elaborated for her. "If he wakes up and finds you staring at him like this, he's going to be royally embarrassed. Knowing what a drama queen Caspian is, he might even become hysterical. You're going to screw up his confidence and pride. I think that you ought to show him a little more respect by getting out of here before all hell breaks loose."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Throwing her arms into the air out of exasperation, Susan stormed over to the door. "You men are all a bunch of babies!" Having said that, she shut the door unkindly behind her on the way out.

Seconds after Susan's retreat, Caspian began to come around, his breathing becoming shallower as he relived the nightmarish attempted strangulation in the forest. His arms flailed for a moment with Peter grabbing them frantically and pinning them to the sides of the bathtub. "Calm down, you're safe now," he said woodenly. This was feeling more awkward than he'd imagined it would. "Just relax."

Caspian gasped, his eyes opening suddenly to take in his surroundings. "W—where…?" The sound that escaped Caspian's throat was raw and wounded, barely above a whisper.

"You're in your chambers." Assuming that Caspian would no longer struggle now that he knew where he was, Peter set to work rubbing the circulation back into the young man's arms. When Caspian didn't attempt to say anything further, choosing to glare at the far wall wearing an expression that couldn't have passed for anything other than anger and humiliation, Peter crouched closer to the tub to meet that glare head-on. He didn't act surprised when Caspian turned away, refusing to accept the challenge. "What? Is it unfitting for your _royal highness_," he snickered as he taunted Caspian, "to be seen naked by another man?" He received not even a word in response to his ploy to rouse the Telemarine's willful spirit. Settling back onto the heels of his feet, Peter grabbed for a bar of soap with one hand, and a sponge with the other.

Caspian, cheeks aflame, shoved roughly at the sponge that rubbed insistently over his left shoulder. "I don't… need…" He could barely get that much out, but he forced himself to reject anymore of Peter's shameful assistance. To have had to be rescued by the almighty – and egotistically boundless – King Peter was more than enough to beat down what was left of his pride. To humor anymore of what Caspian perceived to be a lack of respect on Peter's part was out of the question.

"Oh to hell with it!" Peter stomped to his feet, whipped the sponge at the wall and set his emblazoned eyes on the prince, without mercy. "I ought to beat you senseless for being the careless little upstart that you are! If you think that I rescued you just so that I could brag about it, you really are as dense as you look. What in the name of hell were you doing out there tonight?! Trying to get yourself bloody well killed? If I had hesitated just a moment longer before searching for you, I wouldn't be faced with the unpleasantness of having to bathe you. No, I would be out there," he senselessly waved his arm in the general direction of the courtyard, "digging a six-foot hole for your grave!"

His tirade over and done with, Peter stood there with his arms crossed in front of his chest, breathing heavily, contemplating the tangled emotions in the pit of his stomach. As furious as he was with Caspian, his gaze never left the prince, continuing to watch him like a hawk eyeing its prey.

For another few minutes, Caspian defiantly continued to avoid looking in Peter's direction, struggling to keep his breathing steady. He didn't want to show any signs of weakness that would draw Peter closer and thereby destroy his concentration. He thought back to the fragments of memory he had from the attack that had nearly killed him. He'd barely been holding onto life when Peter had showed up, wrestling those painful roots off of him, fighting like a madman to get him free. Peter had been nothing if not gallant, brave, and loyal, risking his own life in order to save Caspian's. Had Peter's reflexes not been what they were, those roots might have strung the king up in a similar manner, damning them both to die a slow and agonizing death in that rainstorm.

If it hadn't been for Peter…

Caspian closed his eyes tightly, fighting against the terrifying sensation of having the air – the very life – choked out of him. It took even more precious minutes for him to collect his thoughts and attempt to speak. When he opened his eyes again, tentatively glancing in Peter's direction, he was both confused and reassured to find that the king had not left his side. Everything that Peter had done for him proved that there was more going on inside that blond head than just some ego trip. Could it be that Peter actually cared for him? Caspian was almost too afraid to entertain such a possibility.

"I'm sorry," Caspian began, swallowing hard when his throat constricted painfully. "If it hadn't… been… for you…"

Peter sat on the edge of the tub, looking at Caspian intensely. "Let's get one thing straight. I didn't do it to prove anything to anyone." He leaned in closer, his fingers combing through Caspian's damp, wavy tousled hair. His eyes darkened with lust, his fingers coiling in Caspian's hair, pulling tight to hold him still. "I did it because the thought of losing you makes my blood go cold."

Before Caspian could register what had been said or what Peter was doing, he found himself immobilized by the strong fingers tangled in his hair and the arm that wrapped around his waist, lifting him halfway out of the water. And then Peter was so close Caspian dared not breathe for fear of upsetting him. When Peter's lips pressed roughly against his own, Caspian reacted instinctively, trying to pull away and avoid the contact. But he was trapped by his awkward position and Peter's superior strength. Peter's lips were cool and rough, kissing Caspian like a drunken brute that was starving for the taste of flesh. During the first few seconds of the kiss, Caspian protested, panicking when it seemed as if Peter was about to climb into the tub with him. However, as the kiss became more tender, Caspian found himself becoming lost to the passion that Peter burned with. The fingers in his hair relented, stroking over his face as Peter's tongue pushed aggressively between his lips. The kiss deepened, and Caspian now began to welcome it, moaning against Peter's mouth and reaching up to pull his captor closer still.

_To be continued…_


End file.
